The World Through a Window
by Kat-Invasion
Summary: Darby has spent most of her life alone, hindered by her disability. TuffxOC
1. Chapter 1

The World Through a Window

"Grandpa, I want to go watch the dragon training."

Grandpa looked up at me from the axe he had been looking over on the other side of the room. He smiled gently, blue eyes softening from the concentration they had housed moments before.

I put my embroidery aside on the windowsill next to my bed, and let him lift me out of bed and onto his shoulders. Despite his old age, grandpa is as big as any other Viking in the village, and just as strong. More so, he has a heart of gold and is neighbourly to everyone. When he wasn't taking care of me, he would be outside, playing with the village children. He'd been able to do that more often now a days, since I'd forced myself to become more self-sufficient, or, at least, less demanding. Although I still couldn't travel very far on my own. Even then, not without my cane.

When I was five years old, I had run outside during one of the many dragon attacks on Berk, my home having been set a flame. My parents and Grandpa were out fighting with the other adult Vikings. I was scared, confused and lost from stumbling around the blazing village. It wasn't long before a dragon found me, thinking I was easy prey, and attacked. I struggled against the beast, kicking and shrieking, only to get my legs caught between the monstrosity's gnashing teeth. I was so scared that I couldn't think, couldn't identify the type of dragon I was being attacked by, if anyone was around to save me. All I could tell was that it had my legs in its mouth, but it hadn't torn them off, and all I could do was scream.

All I remember beyond that was pain, so much of it I vomited, and blacked out. When I finally came to a week later, the healer told me I was lucky, only my legs having been damaged; but I may never walk again. I couldn't bare to look at my legs, which were still bleeding in some places, and stitched up everywhere. They took forever to heal properly, and then they took even longer to scar. But I understood why they believed I'd never walk again, and I believed it myself.

Grandpa thoughtfully grabbed my cane before leaving the house, handing it to me. I held it tightly as we crossed the town. The cane was a gift from my father, which he gave me on my eleventh birthday. He came into my room and sat down at the foot of my bed, placing the carefully and intricately carved walking stick on my lap. I looked at it questioningly, but he motioned for me to give it a try. It had been years since I had walked, my legs having lost most, if not all their muscle. But my father insisted I at least attempted to walk, even just a few steps.

I fell after a moment of being on my feet, only taking a single step forward. Father had to catch me, pulling me back up to my feet.

"Don't worry," he said quietly, patting my hair, "You'll get it soon enough."

It wasn't soon like father had said, but I did get the hang of walking eventually. By the time I was twelve, I was able to make my way through my house, with little to no trouble. On particularly good days (a good day being any day my legs felt strong enough to carry me so far), I could even make it outside. But I tired quickly, and could never seem to go farther then the path outside my house. My parents and Grandpa still had to carry me around.

Today, I planned to do a full round of the outside of the arena. I figured it to be a tad farther than the distance I usually travelled around my home. I wanted to see if I could make it, but I also wanted to see what happened in the training. I was curious; had I not been attacked eleven years ago, I would be in for my first day of training along with the other Vikings my age. And I wanted to make sure he didn't get himself killed.

We arrived at the arena just as the lesson was beginning. Hiccup, the chief's son had just stumbled in, to which everyone reacted in shock, asking "why is he here?" I had to rake my mind to remember _why_ they would respond to the boy's presence like that, before recalling the events of a day or so before; one of Hiccup's contraptions had been unleashed during a dragon raid, leading to a whole strand of troubles, which the rest of the villagers had to compensate for. I heard the whole story from my mother, who had watched as the gigantic torch that had been indirectly knocked down by Hiccup destroyed part of the bridge leading down to the docks, as well as a few houses afterwards.

Looking around, there were very few spectators at the arena. Most of the adults were off on yet another quest to find the dragons' nest, or just not interested. The village elder was there to watch, although that was most likely only because it was necessary for her being there, as she would decide who would receive the honour of killing their first dragon after they proved themselves through training. Grandpa set me down before wandering off a bit, looking for a good place to watch from. I began my walk around the circular arena.

About halfway around, I could have sworn he saw me, so I raised my hand in a meek sort of wave. When he didn't respond, I let my hand drop, a bit embarrassed, but continued walking.

The first time we met was when we were nine. I spent most of the time with my window open, shutters flung out and the breeze dancing silently into my room, while I sat working away at embroidery, or a book, or some other project to pass the time I spent alone.

I wonder how he saw me then, a small girl with a tangled braid of thick black hair, pale skin that rarely saw the sun, a small smattering of freckles splashed across my face. I was always small and frail from never doing anything, especially then since my father had not yet given me my walking stick and we still believed I couldn't walk.

As I had been pouring over whatever project I had been working at then (I can't for the life of me recall what it was now), he had come up to my windowsill, without my noticing, and asked in a rather loud tone, "Who are you?"

I jumped, barely suppressing a small squeak. I turned to him slack jawed, unsure of what to say. His eyes narrowed sceptically.

"Well? You do have a name, don't you?"

I closed my mouth, and looking down at my hands, murmured, "my name's Darby…"

He leaned over the sill. "What?"

I leaned away from the intrusive boy, and repeated a little louder, "Darby!"

He didn't return to 'his' side of the window, but gave smirk and said, "I'm Tuffnut. I've never seen you around, girly."

Self-consciously, I pulled my bed covers over my legs, which was a bad idea, since it only drew Tuffnut's attention to them. "Hey, what's wrong with your legs?"

Had he not been nine, he probably would have realised how inappropriate his next move was, as he pulled the sheets away faster than I could stop him. I pulled my legs up to my chest, trying to hide the scars that covered near all of my legs. But it was too late, as he had already seen the angry white lines that marked my skin, his eyes wide with shock.

"I-I'm sorry... I didn't..."

With a small sigh, I grabbed my sheets back, pulling them around me again. I was too embarassed to tell him that it wasn't his fault I was _broken_, not his fault that I could be bedridden for the rest of my life. I forced back hot tears and said, "Whatever."

He stood at my window awkwardly for a moment before clearing his throat. "Uh, well... How did that happen?" he looked at my face to see my reaction, but I stared at him blankly.

"I mean, like, you have to have gone through some crazy battle! Did you kill someone? With your bare hands?" He scrambled up onto the window sill, sitting crosslegged as is about to hear some great tale of my bravery, a huge grin on his face.

I opened my mouth to tell him off, but all that came out was a laugh. His grin faded as I kept laughing, having to cover my mouth to stop. _He thought I had been in a battle?_ I shook my head slowly, smiling slightly.

"No, I didn't get these scars in a battle... See, when I was little..."

* * *

After that day, Tuffnut would come and visit me every now and then. He often left shortly, because there wasn't much for us to talk about, having little in common; I knowing very little about things beyond my bedroom, him having the entire island to explore and enjoy. He would tell me stories about what had happened in the villiage, as well as stories about fights he got in with a twin sister I never met, as well as tales about other vikings our age, who I'd never heard of either. I didn't say much when he came by, but I did enjoy having the company that wasn't blood related to me from time to time.

I was shaken out of my thoughts by a crash in the arena. Looking across the bowl, I saw the cheif's son trapped against the wall by a Gronkle, which was preparing to roast the skinny boy alive, only to be hooked by the lip and force-aimed above the boy's by Gobber, the training instructor. Hiccup scrambled away as Gobber dragged the brutish dragon back into its cage, barring the heavy steel doors shut, before returning to face Hiccup, saying, "remember; a dragon will always, _always_, go in for the kill."

He pulled Hiccup back onto his feet, leaving the boy to brush himself off. "Class dissmissed." the man announced, heading back through the gates. After a few sniggers and snide remarks were passed around the group at Hiccup's expense, the younger vikings followed, the cheif's son a few steps behind the rest, seeming lost in thought.

I pursed my lips, looking around the arena for my grandfather, before seeing him across the arena. I started to walk back to him before someone tapped me on the shoulder, making me jump, and nearly falling over.

"Whoa, whoa. Don't fall over. It's just me."

Tuffnut grabbed my arm, forcing me to study myself, before giving me a short, "hey."

"Hey." I said in reply, not really sure what to say.

"What are you doing here? Did you walk here yourself?" he asked, letting my arm go, and backing off a step.

"Hmm? Oh, no. Definately not. Grandpa carried me. Y'know." I stuttered, pointing over my shoulder to my grandfather, who appeared to be watching me. Great. "I.. I just came to watch the, uh, the training."

"Oh. Cool."

"Uh-huh. Well, I have to go," I said, reshifting my weight, flinching a tad.

"Oh, yeah... hey, I could carry you home." He said quickly. He gave a smile, and said, "I mean, I'm super tough, right? You saw me in the ring there."

I nodded, mustering a smile. In actuality, I had seen him and the girl I supposed to be his twin sister get blasted at while they were fighting over sheilds, although I didn't mention that. "Really, though, that's okay. Grandpa's waiting."

He turned a slight pink, but turned away so quickly I barely noticed. "Right, right... Well, I'll see you around. And... Yeah, around."

"Yeah."

He started to walk off, before turning back. "You coming to watch tomorrow?"

I looked at my feet, not really sure if I would. "Uh, probably." I said, which was most likely a bad idea, as Tuffnut took this for a 'yes'.

"Awesome, see you tomorrow, then!" he grinned, before running off to meet up with his sister, who greeted him with a hard shove.

I sighed, and returned to Grandpa, who gave me a questioning look. I frowned stubbornly in return.

"Just a friend Grandpa." I grumbled as he lifted me onto his shoulders again. "Just a friend."

* * *

AN: This is probably more of a personal writing excercise for me, in the limitation of a character veiw-point (due to a physical hinderment to the character's person.) I figured it would be interesting, and I'd give it a shot. And thus, Darby was born. Sort of. Darby was already floating about, but then I made her physically imapaired. Oh, Darby, maybe if you had a different writer, you'd be a more mobile viking. Maybe. But lol you ended up with me. You lucky duck.

By the way, Darby's name was a pain in the buttocks to come up with holy smoking salmon. I in the end just poicked a pretty name, since I could not for the life of me concoct a horrible one xD sorry if she breaks up the theme, but I figured it was okay. (Darby means a gathering of deer, or something to that effect. It had to do with deer. And gatherings of them.)Anyways, Please feel free to give me critisism, or corrections, suggestions, or just some nice reveiws. Nice reveiws are nice. And don't worry, I don't bite :)

Anyhoooooo, until next time!

Kat


	2. Chapter 2

AN: wow! Before we start, I'd like to thank all you readers for the lovely reviews! I try to individually reply to each one, but I've been so busy as of late that it just wasn't possible! From now on, I'll make a better effort, seeing as it's now summer and I have nothing but time on my hands!

As a side note-to-self: I really need to stop writing my rough drafts on paper. They always seem to get lost, or thrown away without my notice...

Hope you all enjoy this chapter!

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My parents never let on as to how much my condition embarrassed them. It was very noble of them, and I am thankful, but they couldn't hide everything. The sad looks father gave my mother while he smoked his pipe by the hearth, the way mother had to avoid most conversation with the other village wives. And the gossiping voices which met my ears through the very window that had been my only connection to the outside world for so long.

I would have never thought people could say such cruel things had I never heard it for myself. But I did hear, as the hags gathered on the path near my house to spread the village gossip about.

I have heard them call me a good-for-nothing, which I don't believe to be a fair judgement- I would love to be good for something, but I simply cannot in my condition,- I have been speculated to be the only girl my age who will never marry- who would want a wife who cannot do the washing? Who cannot sharpen a sword or an axe? Who may never be able to bear children because of her warped legs?- it goes on and on, without end.

Sometimes I wished that the dragon had simply eaten me up, for the words of these women hurt far more than the beast's teeth ever had.

When I began to walk again, they seemed to be so surprised that they swallowed their words for a week, but then it began again, although they seemed to find a new target.

My mother has always been a sensitive soul, although she is a brilliant fighter. She has had terrible luck with children though, including myself. Her first pregnancy ended in a miscarriage, the second granting her the birth of a small boy, who didn't live to the age of two, dying of fever. The third child was me. The fourth and final one would have been my sister, but she died soon after birth. Mother always joked that Frigg must hate her something terrible, although not when she thought I could hear.

The gossip mongers were just as ruthless with my mother as they were with me. If there is anything worse than hearing cruel things being said about one's self, it's hearing cruel things being said about one's mother.

I used to pray for the days it would rain, for the snow that would stop the women from coming to gossip.

Sometimes the gods heard my prayers.

* * *

I always looked forward to Tuffnut's visits. He always had a story to tell, and would try his best to make me smile. He usually succeeded. I figured him to be my best... My only friend. And I was happy to know him.

From the stories he would tell me, I found myself meeting the other villagers in a strange way. I knew nearly all there was to know about his sister, Ruffnut. I heard stories of their misadventures most frequently. The other teens featured in his tales as well, and by now I could identify them all, despite never having met them personally. His stories didn't always portray he others in positive lights, but they still helped me gain a strange sense of familiarity with the other children, one only I could benefit from. Some days, when the gossipers were gathered outside my home, seeming to aim their venomous words through my window, I would imagine myself joining the other teens. I would envision myself in perfect health, able to walk without aid from my walking stick. In my mind there would be a grand adventure to embark on.

Sometimes I would tell Tuffnut, but most of the time it was too embarrassing for me to even put my thoughts to words. I couldn't fathom how strange the practice would seem to anyone other than myself.

Eventually I began to feel that I didn't have anything to contribute to our conversations. I could have made up stories about brave Vikings out to vanquish hulking beasts in the far reaches of the world, but I could never quite translate my thoughts to spoken word. It soon seemed that even my best efforts of contribution did not suffice, so I decided to show my appreciation in another way.

I had always had a talent for weaving and embroidery; crafts of the like which I could do without moving about. My first project was a surprise for him, a small sheath embroidered with a green dragon, flame escaping from its mouth in curling rivulets. Inside the sheath I slid the hunting knife my father had given me when I was small, before the accident with the dragon. As I was never going to have any use for it, I gave it away to him as a gift, to thank him for being my friend.

When I gave Tuffnut the sheath, he made a point not to seem too happy, as Viking men are not supposed to show their emotions so easily, but he was always terrible at disguising his feelings. He grinned at me, asking if it was really his to keep, and I smiled back, nodding my confirmation.

That was the first gift I gave my friend.

* * *

The second lesson looked to be some sort of maze. There were boards set up in the arena, creating winding paths. It was almost impossible to see what was going on in the center, unless I was to crane my neck, leaning heavily on my walking stick.

The class began similarly to yesterday's, although there was a lack of banter between the students. I speculated that they had either come to the realization that these lessons were serious, and shouldn't be taken lightly, or they were awe-struck by the labyrinth. I figured it to be the latter, since this group was a rather chatty bunch.

Gobber was outside of the arena today, overlooking the lesson from the exterior of the caged pitch, which made me wonder just _how _dangerous this lesson was going to be. Although, I suppose he did have to have a view of the maze, where he'd be able to see what was going on- I just wondered what he would do if there was a mishap as there had been yesterday.

"Today," Gobber called out to his pupils, as a Deadly Nadder leapt atop the planks set up to create the maze, "is all about _attack!_"

Absolute chaos seemed to break out then, the Nadder chasing the small Vikings by hopping about from board to board, before jumping down, between the boards.

"Nadders are quick, and light on their feet." Gobber mused, not seeming to pay much attention to the going-ons below. "Your job is to be quicker and lighter!"

the going-ons below. "Your job is to be quicker and lighter!"

Every now and again the Nadder would leap back on top of the walls to send a volley of its spikes flying, whoever had been the target giving a cry of surprise before darting off. From my vantage point, I could catch glimpses of people running about, but I couldn't make out exactly what was going on.

From somewhere deep in the maze, I could hear Hiccup asking questions of Gobber, pertaining to Night Furies, strangely enough. I wondered if he was even paying attention, as Gobber seemed to as well, yelling at him to focus and get back to the lesson.

"Look for it blind spot!" Gobber instructed, "Every dragon has one. Find it, hide in it, and strike!"

No sooner where the words out of his mouth then I heard Tuffnut's voice loud and clear, telling someone- his sister, I presumed- to "get their own blind spot", to which he got a reply of "how about I give _you_ one?" The Nadder noticed them, of course, cuing Gobber to say with a dry chuckle, "blind spot, yes. Deaf spot? Not so much."

Once more, Hiccup tried to ask Gobber about Night Furies, but was shot down, being told once again to pay attention. For a moment, the arena was silent, before the Nadder gave a cry, having spotted someone once again. This time though, things seemed to get just that much more hectic; the boards had started to fall, knocking into their neighbours, and somehow managing to stay atop of the mess was Astrid, leaping from board to board as they fell, the Deadly Nadder in hot pursuit. Apparently, Hiccup had not gotten the idea that standing around was not a good idea, and was in the worst place possible, Astrid jumping from the last wall standing, and landing directly on him.

The Nadder, which appeared to be a tad disoriented, once again set his sights on Astrid, who had ended up with her axe wedged solidly into Hiccup's shield. As the Nadder quickly closed in, she planted a foot on Hiccup's chest, pulling both her axe and his shield away from his arm. She met the Nadder with a strong swing to the head, shattering the wooden shield. The Nadder finally retreating, she turned to Hiccup, glaring daggers.

"Is this some kind of a joke to you?" She snapped, voice loud enough that there was no way to not hear her. "Our parents' war is about to become ours! Figure out which side you're on." She finished bitterly, storming off, axe in hand. Hiccup stayed where he was, obviously stung by her words, although no one reached out to help him.

I couldn't help but sympathise with him.

But Astrid was right. And there was nothing I wanted more in the world than to be able to pick a side.

* * *

AN: more to come soon my lovelies C


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Thank you so much for the reviews DarkFireAngel00, Ms Llewellyn, CRdragonPyro, and A-Mermaids-Tear1398! I hope you all enjoy this chapter :D

* * *

"I totally would have obliterated that Nadder if it hadn't been for Ruff. She got in the way."

I gave Tuffnut my best sceptical look, one eyebrow raised. "Really now?"

"Yeah, I mean, how could I not have?" he gave me a sly grin. "Seriously though, I can't believe Astrid managed that. All the jumping and stuff."

I shrugged. "I don't see how it's that unbelievable. I mean, she's already very agile, just on basis, but at that point her adrenaline must have been going crazy."

"I guess. It's not fair though. Everyone already knows she's great, but she's completely stealing the show now." He leaned over the windowsill, trying to look at the embroidery I was working on at that moment. I lifted it for him to see, revealing a large tree with tiny little apples stitched into the main body of the leaves. "That looks pretty good."

"Thank you." I smiled, and then went back to work. "To be honest, I don't care if she steals the show. As long as you don't get yourself killed, I don't think it matters." Realizing what I had just said, I blushed, trying to hide it by becoming extremely invested in my embroidery. He didn't seem to notice.

"Why does it matter if I die? Not that I will." He said with a laugh. "There's no way I'll die in dragon training. I mean, that would be pathetic…"

I sighed. "Well, if you did die, that would mean I'd be completely lonely. That wouldn't exactly be desirable. Plus, I'd miss you." I shrugged.

Tuffnut was the one to blush this time, although he turned his head away, trying to hide it. I pretended not to see. "Guess being dead wouldn't be that exciting anyways."

I nodded my agreement, but couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to be dead. I had almost been dead once, but I didn't remember much from then, and it wasn't something my parents wanted to talk about. I doubted I would have made it to anywhere other than Hel, which I couldn't imagine to be too bad. But it's not like a five-year-old girl does much to prove herself a great hero. And a child being eaten by a dragon isn't heroic either, just sort of pathetic. I couldn't see myself ever doing anything worthy of being inducted into Valhalla. And I couldn't imagine I've been so terrible as to be sent to Niflhel; having bad luck would be my worst action in life, which is nothing that deserves harsh punishment.

I became so deep in thought about what it would take for me to be sent Niflhel or Valhalla that I ended up pricking myself with my embroidery needle.

"Oh, ouch!" I hissed, and stuck my thumb straight into my mouth. Tuff looked up, mildly alarmed. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm alright." I said around my thumb, then glanced at my embroidery, noticing the small crimson flower that had bloomed on the pale green thread of the leaves. "Ah, shoot, I got blood on the tree..."

Tuffnut took the embroidery from me, and said, "Hey, it doesn't look that bad, it sort of matches the apples, right?"

I sighed. "Yeah, for now. When it dries it'll look terrible though."

"Can't you cover it with more thread then?"

"No, I don't have enough red right now." I waved my uninjured hand dismissively. "Whatever, I'll just put it aside for now, see if I can do anything with it tomorrow."

I took the embroidery back, and Tuff glanced over his shoulder, back at the street. "About time for you to meet up with everyone else, isn't it?" I asked.

He nodded, hopping down from his perch on my sill, landing heavily on his feet. "we're going up to the fire pits tonight." he glanced at me meaningfully, and quietly said, "you should come. I'm sure no one would mind."

I sighed. "you know I wouldn't be able to walk all that way. Besides, it's just you dragon trainees. I'm not exactly qualified."

He was silent for a moment, before saying, "I could come back to see you later tonight. If you'd like, I mean."

I rolled my eyes. "don't trouble yourself- you know I'll be fast asleep by the time you're done."

He shrugged but didn't say anything more, extending his hand slightly. For a moment I could swear I felt my heart skip a beat, thinking he was about to take my hand, but he instead turned his arm in an awkward farewell wave. "see you tomorrow."

He darted off before I could reply, but I still answered with my own good-bye.

* * *

The next day's class presented quite the surprise to everyone present, when Hiccup somehow managed to corral a rather unhappy Zippleback into it's enclosure, the scaly beast hissing, both it's sets of eyes wide with terror in the presence of the scrawny boy.

It was really impressive, to say the least, but Hiccup played it off as though it was nothing, rushing to leave the arena, leaving the other students behind him, mouths hanging open in shock.

I stepped away from where I had been leaning against the caged part of the arena, just as Astrid began to fume, storming off, with the ever-hopeful Snotlout at her heels. I watched the twins leave, Tuffnut holding his head, complaining loudly to his sister, who pushed him away, cackling. Fishlegs trailed behind, seeming deep in thought.

I turned to head home myself, looking for my grandfather, but instead found Gobber watching me with a questioning look. I nodded politely, leaning heavily on my cane.  
"You're the Rasmussen girl, aren't you?"

Again I nodded, curious as to what he could possibly want.

"It's a shame what happened to you. You're an intelligent one, I can tell. You would have made a fantastic Viking, I'm sure."

I raised an eyebrow, not sure whether to take his words as a compliment or unintentional insult. "Uhm, thank you?"

Goober shook his head. "No need. It's good to see you can walk. Gods know how hard it is to learn it twice." he gave a dry chuckle, raising his peg leg off the ground a bit to make his point. "It was good to meet you girly."

I watched as the older man headed off into the village, most likely to go to the smithy's, before hobbling over to grandpa. I couldn't help but be grateful that I still had both my legs intact, horribly scarred or not.

I always felt like I lived in a bubble sometimes, separated from the world by the walls of my bed room. Walking helped, but I still often felt as though I was only observing the world through a window. Which was why it was surprising that someone from outside the bubble knew who I am.

Without wanting to say malicious things, that is.

My conversation with Gobber had been a bit of a shock to my system. I wasn't sure what to think of it, so I came to the conclusion that it was just best to not think about it at all.

That night was uneventful. Tuffnut did not come to visit, so I returned to my embroidery from the day before. The drop of blood had dried out into a deep maroon, and the area was far too large to just cover with more thread. Sighing, I put it aside, and turned to glance out the window.

After tracing patterns in the stars with my eyes, I slowly drifted off to sleep, half propped up against the sill.

That night I dreamt that the stars were dragons.


End file.
